Long Fairs Poems
Long Fairs Poems. Below are the most popular long Fairs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fairs poems by poem length and keyword.
Ada Scott was a widowed old woman, living in rolling hills country;
In jade, flowering days of full sun, when ecstatic bees made honey.
She lived in the same cottage she was born, quite a long time ago;
On a night of amaranth starlight, when moon peered into windows.
She was well known and loved in the neighborhood, like red robin;
And participated in church activities, like caring deeds, unforgotten.
Ada and friends went to Friday fairs, and offered fresh pies for sale;
And tempting cakes and muffins, and often, fancy cookies in a pail.
Fresh day and lulling night had frequent faceoffs, in an ageless feud,
When came a time for loved family visits; like a smiling, happy mood!
Ada Scott lived in the house of memories, so happily going forward;
Like portraits of dear faces and pretty colors, as sun gazes backward.
Radiant smiles were always ready, on the road of neighbors meeting,
Reliable in the way of oldest friends; as when the rainbow is greeting.
Neighbors sat on porches, laughing, on evenings of nervous comets;
When night nature wore a different beauty, in pink starlight promise.
'Curly mums' were featured in gardens, in burgundy, pink and white;
'Lovely ladies' styled, perfumed hair, waltzing with wind, in daylight.
Astilbe visions foresaw hot summer's end, one sad day in a future far,
From its diamond eyed perspective; like lavish beauty of fall, bizarre.
Strangers often asked the way to Ada's cottage, as she loved to knit
And often sold the pretty, useful products, like a rocking chair habit.
Folks of other towns were patrons, since for Ada, quality was custom.
People will go far for the lovely unique, as each soul must have some!
'There was an old woman
Lived under a hill;
And if she's not gone,
She lives there still.'
If I could improve the world
one space at a time I'd do it
immediately I'd begin with love
Banners and flags unfurled
shouting out love and peace with it
.
I'd buy some land to build upon
Five acres would do just fine
I'd build a place where love exists
and all hate and troubles are gone
for both the young and old combined
For I've known love and happiness
From my loving and protective parents
Yet far too many live in fear and heartbreak
People get lost and many are homeless
This is something we should prevent.
As they get abused and are neglected
Thrown away and forgotten by others
Left to wander the streets alone or to die
Those lost souls should be protected
By being loved by their father and mother.
Author Notes
I really do want to do this, but all it takes is money and the place. I'd like to have it as a ranch style places set to help people of all walks of life and troubles.
I'd make it a place to teach and learn all kinds of things. Bridging the gap between generations. Since both the younger generations are beaten and neglected and many times despised by those that gave them life.
Then on the opposite genreation. The elderly, The same thing can happen. by their families and more often care givers.
I want to have the place be self sufficient . the elderly people would teach the kids the ways of life when they grew up. sewing, farming, feeding animals. Living off the land. Baking bread and other great meals. Also some crafts. Then the kids could open up the world of technology and internet uses and even some of the games. Finding common ground and then building bonds of love and trust as well as respect for each other. Making a special family for them.
They could even sell their baked goods or homemade items as well as fairs or flea markets etc.
The theme would be loving hearts and helping hands.
© Bonnie J Hollywood-Cutts. All rights reserved, a day ago
He was a good old mountain boy from the state of Kentuck.
His Pappy taught him some fiddlin' and a banjo how to pluck.
He was mighty good on the mandolin and the guitar too.
Sippin' a jar of 'shine, my oh my, how his fingers flew!
He'd sit on the cabin porch by the hour a-strummin' away,
Shirkin' his chores, much to his poor old Pa's dismay.
But his Ma saw innate talent in that boy of her'n,
And she cheered him on for the career that he did yearn!
He'd fiddle a rousin' "Orange Blossom Special," bow a-smokin';
On the mandolin a Strauss waltz, his fingers gently strokin'.
He'd learned to play a harmonica as it rested on his chest.
His fame was whispered about throughout the great Midwest!
He formed a little band and played at all the county fairs,
Union halls, the VFW and other such local affairs.
They had a piano, drum, strings and bull-fiddle bass.
Saturdays their gig was at a honky-tonk called Lenora's Place.
His fate was sealed when a talent scout happened by.
"Son", he said, "You can kiss this smalltown stuff goodbye.
Come to Nashville with me and I'll make you all the rage!"
He became a sideman for stars on the Grand Ole Opry stage!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
There's a vase full of flowers
By the window
There's a bowl full of golden fish
On the table
~
Oh and my man has left me
My man left me goodbye
oh I wish that I was a baby
So that I would cry
~
There is love across the corner
And around the street
That is where he went, my man went over
To the house where he did seek
A lovely Maiden a beautiful woman my my my
He lifted up with praises toward the skies
~
There's a vase full of flowers
By the window
There's a bowl full of golden fish
On the table
~
And in the morning this young girl cries
Cuz her man has left her here to die
Brokenhearted he has forsaken her this love less woman left her why why why
~
Each day one of the flowers in the vase just wilts away
Each moment leaving me with nothing but ashes
And tomorrow I know there's going to be a better day
Cuz the golden fish in my fish bowl on the table begins to sway
Tears in the water for my gold fish cry
Fairs in my heart and stomach my breathing's nigh
~
There's a vase full of flowers
By the window sill
There's a bowl full of dead golden fish still
My tears are in the water
My breath has left the flowers
He told me he was leaving
And that he would not come back
I found myself grieving
He broke my heart now I don't want him back
(a womans brokenhearted verse, love loss sigh)
7/26/74
Written words by James Edward Lee 1974, 2020
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
If you only knew ...,
of that thawing night
when stars had lost their way,
ran to hand you my umbrella,
and as we heard that distant rain
we smiled apiece as you held relief,
in a special short-of-weigh.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Be it around, --top side face down,
feign torn grace,
and in a timely space,
a grin climbed and left
an accord in its solace realm ..., to laughter in the raining,
--and you ...,
Lord, seems tis, not a prayer or psalm ..., art returns a painting.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
My heart reigned of its love,
in the fullness thereof,
--absent to voice,
--errs to choice,
gifts to air,
Heaven's due prayer,
for I confess
a mere request.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
What seldom laws--transcending wonder,
perfumed with flaws, scents pause of one?
A blessing by Grace to trend her proper smile,
and steads farewell fairs,
... let the rain remain
... for a while?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
My Mona ...,
my Lisa ...,
my evermore ...,
If you only knew.
Sara married Charlie, and instantly became caught up in his web.
He was a Catholic, so she converted. He was a Democrat, so now she was too.
They were both serious now, even though she had been a party girl before.
His opinions were her opinions. Charlie says. Charlie thinks. Charlie, Charlie.
But that got boring, so she married Bobbie. They were exactly the same
After she converted and became Southern Baptist. She learned the guitar too.
They played the guitar for two years all over West Kentucky. Joined at the hip.
His opinions were her opinions. Bobbie says. Bobbie thinks. Bobbie, Bobbie.
Sara is on husband number nine. His name is Chet.
She is now an independent, not believing in any politics, a New Age convert.
They go to psychic fairs, showing gemstones. They both read Tarot cards.
His opinions are her opinions. Chet says. Chet thinks. Chet, Chet, Chet.
Sara is still trying to find herself, but going about it in a very strange way…
Way back then when I was ten,
those were happy days:
Staying out till it got dark;
kickball was the craze!
Taking walks or riding bikes,
how we loved to go
into town, buy some snacks
or see a picture show.
Late at night in the bedroom,
we’d be whispering.
Dad yelled, “Girls, get to sleep!” but
we kept giggling.
Shouts of joy when school was out!
We could all foresee
three months spread with sun and fun -
our short destiny!
Spraying one another with
hoses felt so cool.
Or we’d spend allowance on
Weed Park Swimming Pool.
Baseball, fairs, church camp, and
picnics where we’d meet
cousins, aunts and uncles -
Such times were a treat.
Family vacation meant
in OUR car were ten!
Not too comfortable, yet I’d
do it all again!
In September, back to school
we all had to go.
Halloween, which I loved, was
‘round the corner though.
Then at last, Christmas parties!
Also I was fond
Of sledding over snow or
skating on the pond.
But my fondest memory
was with family
simply eating popcorn with
Sunday night TV.
For Caren Krutsinger's 'Pure Childlike Fun and Enthusiasm' Poetry Contest
The first time you tried to walk you fell,
look at you now staying up right so well,
often the first attempt at the unknown
is simply "chance" with luck thrown,
tough times challenge and cause stress
the first time writing you made a mess
you can achieve the task most sizeable
as you did learning to ride a bicycle
when you were little you learnt your name
treat all knowledge in life just the same
when attempting that what is unfamiliar
and unknowing of anything similar
the attempt is just you getting to know it
once known of show skill to merit
the feared steps of walking in the dark will
see the sunrise and light sparkle
allowing you awareness, knowledge, vision,
remember ability fairs well in repetition
and be assured natural talent fails with attitude
you must focus your mind in order to improve,
the lesson of life is never give up, never give in,
believe in yourself as long as you're breathing
keep going when the soul starts bleeding
surrender is an act of self defeating
at the start you dread days won't be easy
so see the big picture when today isn't easy
testing times are for you too overcome
which will happen if you don't turn and run
belief in yourself is your most powerful gift
if mankind didn't have it we wouldn't exist
she was tattooed, yet still beautiful
her green eyes were the eyes of a queen
she was not arrogant; she was regal
wearing bracelets bangles and spangles
others avoided her table at the psychic fair
I sauntered directly to her
when I got closer, I noted that she was classy
and more gorgeous than I had originally thought
If men attended psychic fairs, there would have been a line
these old, dumpy corpulent middle-aged women went other places
this was a queen with flowers in her hair
wearing pearls and gemstones
I felt I was in the presence of greatness
there was nothing arrogant or inflated about her
she had a soft voice and kind ways
I was enthralled, captured, and enchanted
yes, she certainly could do a reading for me
it was a fabulous thirty minutes
she is a woman I have never forgotten
There's a tiny monster gliding in the air
Whoever you are, it shows no spare
Swiftly quaffing the earth's unstained blood,
it resolved to bury a raft of bodies under the pleading mud.
Missiles are aimed at an eclipsed enemy
Trying to discover home in this endless journey
Warriors are rifled with
rigour
Not caring for a cut or a blister.
School drums went dumb
Town fairs said no welcome
Smiles and lives are masked
Tears and fears are hiked.
A son was buried while his mother quarantined
A husband died miles away leaving his wife estranged
The empty stadiums engulfed the players' sky-high spirits
Innocent lives are turning to dust every few minutes.
It's transient my child! It's all transient.
Short-lived are these strong winds
Ephemeral are these hot waves
Cry not in the dark night
Smiles re-bloom upon winning this fight.
Every bud blooms after the rain as a norm
It's time to be an eagle and rise above the storm